


You're a Trainwreck (But I Wouldn't Love You if You Changed)

by jellytea



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellytea/pseuds/jellytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casper loves Mercedes. Unconditionally. He's just waiting for her to realize it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Trainwreck (But I Wouldn't Love You if You Changed)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, Guitar Dude's name is Casper. And um, apparently angst ensues from the Mercedes/Guitar Dude pairing.
> 
> Title is from Demi Lovato's "Trainwreck."

The first time he met Mercedes was at the Palmwoods Pool, during the party James and Carlos had coordinated. She was crying hysterically and yelling at Logan, who was sitting, bemused, on a chair, that she would never love again, that her heart was forever broken. But then she'd looked up and seen Casper who had come over to dry his hands at the little bonfire next to them, blatantly looked him up and down, and then grabbed his arm, declaring that he was her new boyfriend.

This was the first of many loud and attention-garnering spectacles that became routine when one was in a relationship with Mercedes Griffin.

The next day Mercedes found out that no one at the Palmwoods seemed to know or call Casper by his real name.

"Guitar Dude? That's what people call you?" she asked, looking up from her phone. The two of them were waiting in the lobby while Casper signed the sheet of "outgoing" residents.

Tyler had just come by, letting Casper know that Cowboy Monkey, a bar that was known for its hipster crowd, was holding an open mic night the coming up Friday, and he had casually used the well-known moniker when addressing Casper.

"Yeah. 'Cause I play a guitar and I'm a dude," he grinned, slipping off his sunglasses and leaning in close to her, whose face was currently scowling at his patronizing tone.

"I realize that's _why_ they call you that," she snapped. "But there's no way I'm going to introduce you to my father or to other people as that. What's your real name?"

"Why don't you pick one for me, Sadie? Isn't that how you usually do things?" he shrugged, leaning back against Bitters' counter and strumming his guitar. His eyes popped open when she reached over and yanked the instrument out of his hands.

"Listen, _you_. I told you not to call me Sadie and I don't appreciate being ignored. I get that enough from my father, thank you very much," she said shortly. And then paused, closing her eyes and berating herself for letting slip her poor-rich-girl issues. "Fine. Then I'll call you Scooter. That's appropriately pothead, isn't it?" She viciously swiped at the guitar strings.

There was a long pause. "It's Casper. Sadie."

  
Their brief relationship was nothing particularly special: she decided when, where, and what they were doing, and how it best contributed to her reputation. He was just supposed to be arm candy, a human Ken doll that she could drag around and show off to her father. (And if Casper pissed off Arthur Griffin by drawling that he already had an agent, and that agent was Knight Management, and no thank you, he wasn't interested in joining the ranks of RCM/CBT Global Net Sanyoid's music department, well, that just made Mercedes grin and savor the fact that she was dating a boy her father absolutely hated, which meant that he was paying extra attention to his little girl.)

But just as abruptly as Casper had become her boyfriend, just as abruptly did he find himself girlfriend-less. He had been lazily clicking through random pages on the Internet when he came across JustJaredJr's excited speculation about Mercedes Griffin's new man, along with a gigantic picture of the woman in question with her arms around a grungy blond surfer dude who was apparently starring in a hot new TV show.

Moments later he got a flighty, capricious text that could only be from Mercedes:  _Old boyfriend, I have a new boyfr_ _iend. So tomorrow's sushi dinner is off._

And that was how Casper found himself hunched over on the couch in his apartment, at four in the afternoon, drinking heavily with the Big Time Rush boys and the majority of Carlos' contact list.

"I just loved her, you know?" Casper muttered thickly, pressing his face into his hands. He didn't have to look up to see Kendall, Logan, and Carlos exchange dubious looks.

"Um. Why, exactly? Didn't she drive you crazy? I saw her yelling at you all the time. And she didn't even let you near your guitar for three days that one time," Logan said.

"It was because she was hot, wasn't it? Dude, your place is filled with the hottest girls at the Palmwoods. Pick one and forget about her," James suggested helpfully, shaking Casper's arm. The Jennifers rolled their eyes and shoved the boys off the couch, crowding around Casper.

"Don't listen to them. They're idiots," the blond Jennifer snarked.

Casper just accepted the sympathy drink from Carlos and threw it down his throat. He closed his eyes and savored the burn at the back of his throat.

+

  
It was Mercedes' birthday. His phone had brightly reminded him with a tiny _ping_! early that morning.

Casper started fiddling with his phone, turning it over and over in his hands, wondering whether or not he should send her a text. Technically, he didn't need to, because she was officially out of his life. But. He hadn't talked to her in months. He'd even stopped smoking because he kept remembering how she had scrunched up her nose and whined for him to please stop lighting up when she was in the room, because it took her days for her to air out the smell, and she had a business meeting in a couple hours and she didn't want to welcome the representatives from Britain by smelling like the inside of a bong.

He sighed and shoved his phone into the drawer next to his bed, determined to keep it out of sight so he could actually get some work done. He resolutely pushed it shut, slung his guitar over his shoulder, and headed down to the pool, already forming some tentative lyrics.

He realized he might still be distracted when all of the lyrics he could think of revolved around "the girl that got away" and "privileged girl who was the saddest person in the world" and "shiny blonde hair." 

Finally, after agonizing the entire day about it, at 10 PM, he sent her a vaguely coherent message. _Sending happy vibes your way. Happy birthday, Sadie_. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and picked up his guitar. He was halfheartedly strumming at the strings when his pocket started vibrating. He pulled his phone out and stared at the screen, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah?" 

"Hey, Cass." His heart jumped into his throat when he heard her voice, shaky and vulnerable.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" 

"Um. Thanks for the text. It was sweet. Um," she cleared her throat. "Actually. My dad forgot it was my birthday today. He - he told me come to this nice restaurant, and told me to get dressed up. And, and, I'm such an idiot. I actually thought he had planned something. But he was just celebrating a new band he had picked up today."

"Stay where you are. I'll come pick you up," Casper said. He set his guitar aside and climbed out of bed.

"I'm - I'm actually here. Outside the Palmwoods. I wasn't sure where to go. I couldn't take any more of the dinner, so I just told the driver to go wherever, and -" she was crying now, and her words were tumbling into each other.

"Don't worry about it. Hold on. I'll be right down," he promised. He ran out of the apartment and took the stairs, three steps at a time, not even bothering with the elevator. She was standing outside, hugging herself, her back to the door. Casper walked up to her and hesitantly reached out to cup her shoulder. She turned, gave him a wavering smile, and fell against him, arms slipping around his back. His arms automatically cradled her back, and he pressed a kiss against her hair, holding her close.

"Let's get you upstairs. I have that tea you like," he whispered when Mercedes' shoulders stopped heaving. After a beat, he felt her nod against his chest, her curls brushing against his throat.

  
The next morning, she was gone. Casper woke up to find the left side of his bed cold and empty. He rolled over onto his back, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck." The curse hung in the air, mockingly, reminding him that Mercedes wasn't emotional, and just because he caught her in a bad moment didn't mean that she was suddenly going to morph into a girl who was...normal. Who sent her boyfriend random endearing texts during the day. Who let her boyfriend choose the restaurant they ate at. Who didn't carry around three pairs of shoes in a gigantic handbag because she always wanted to be prepared. (Tor what he still didn't know.) Who kissed him in public because she wanted to, not because she wanted the paparazzi to get a picture of the two of them. Who let herself be part of a relationship for more than six days.

But then again. He wasn't her boyfriend. And she was far from "normal."

And he didn't want her to be.

He swung his legs off the bed and sat there, his elbows on his knees, his hands agitatedly running through his hair.

His phone bleeped. He reached over to pick it up and felt his heart start to beat quickly when the little pop-up told him that Mercedes was sending him a text. He tapped at the screen.

 _Thanks_.

He stared down at the small screen, and felt his mouth curve into a small smile. He would just wait for her, then. And wait until she realized that he wasn't going anywhere. Yeah, he was only eighteen, but there had to be a reason why Mercedes Griffin had been dropped into his life. He'd never cared about anything as much as he cared about her. He wasn't the kind of person to take things seriously or to talk about "forever," but for Mercedes, he would wait until he was old and gray. He would work hard to be the one constant in her life.


End file.
